It's the Little Things
by FsDxRAGE
Summary: Each "mini-episode" of It's the Little Things will delve into the mind of Tali'Zorah as she deals with ordinary life, of which is extraordinary to her as she journeys into the complications of being suit-less on Rannoch after the Reaper War.
1. It's the Little Things

_**It's the Little Things**_  
**Articles of Clothing**

It's the little things in life that I have begun to relish after the Reaper war had been won. Life has thrown me challenges, none of which I have not been able to hurdle. Mainly, it was getting used to the feeling of the wind brushing kindly, gently against my skin, not worrying about cleaning my shotgun, getting used to my strengthening immune system, and breaking past the mental barriers I have bolstered over the twenty-five years of my life.  
And here I am, having locked myself in this closet within my new home.  
Yeah, that's right, _my home. _  
An asari architect designed and built it, hired by none other than Shepard. He tells me he is trying to spoil me at every turn, but being the stubborn quarian girl I am, I resist, but admit, have been defeated. After everything he has done for me, I am spoiled _rotten _to the core. If some biologists were to split me open with a scalpel, I'd be writhing with worms and maggots.  
He got me a _planet _for Keelah's sake!  
With the corner of my mouth, I blew a loose strand of black hair away from my face.  
How do human women deal with all of this? Frustrated, I grab my hair, and observe the thickets in the palm of my hand. It just gets _everywhere. _With the suit, it was all taken care of, but now I have to wash it every day, scrub it with shampoo (I admit, it smells nice, and the bubbles are a plus), condition it, and comb it. It takes a precious hour out of my day-an hour I once took for granted. In a way, I miss the suit. Slowly, I crane my head, eyebrows stitched together and with a frown over my lips, I can see my suit in pieces on a shelf. No longer do I need it for anything since nothing should be shooting at me anymore.  
Let's hope I am right.  
I scan the closet, having realized that my vision was better with the helmet on, and huff. A knock at the closet door didn't faze me.  
_One._  
_Two._  
_Three_ quick taps.  
Nervously, my bare feet came together, toes curled up.  
"Tali, are you ever going to come out?" asked Shepard, his voice laced with subtle concern and amusement.  
"Can't you just give a girl a minute?" I shoot back, throwing a fistful of his boxer shorts at the door in a futile attempt to shut him up.  
"It's been ten."  
"Give me another minute... or ten," I said, crawling on the floor to pick up my mess.  
Closets seem to be a big thing in human and asari culture since this behemoth is the size of my old house on the Rayya, if not bigger. A room solely dedicated to elaborate cloths was absurd! This could store yard equipment, food, or my tools. No one ever needs a walk-in closet. Looking around this room, I start to understand why it is so big-a point that I never really picked up on while spending time with a mainly human crew. People wear many articles of clothing: socks, shirts, pants, shoes, gloves, hats, jackets, underwear, so on and so forth. With us quarians, all we need is one single suit and a toolkit.  
Keelah, life is more complicated without my old, beloved suit. Who would have thought? I mean, we need to brush our teeth, _walk _to the bathroom, flush toilets with our bare hands, dress, put on makeup (I tend to skip that part), take care of our skin, and the list goes on. That isn't even a fraction of what I have to do now.  
Here I am, considered the smartest species of them all, and I am holding a pity party with myself while sitting in my underwear locked in a closet.  
I stood up, pushed both fists into my hips, and glared at the daunting line of clothes. As of late, Shepard and I have been doing nothing. We are more worthless than a retired couple in Florida, or so Shepard says. I have been running around barefoot and haven't even bothered thinking about putting on shoes. The tile, wood, and carpeted floors are cool in the mornings and evenings, but warm in the afternoons as the sun shines through the skylights and stretches through the windows. The sand outside is silky and cool, especially when I push my feet under the top layer of heated, powdered rock, down into the cooler bits, and let the waves gingerly grab and tug at my ankles, pulling me deeper into the beach.  
Shepard continued to pace outside the closet and I could hear his bare feet _pitter patter _under the slatted door. Natural late-morning light pierced the gaps between the boarded door and diagonally striped the white carpet in the closet. I could feel the sun's warmth on my feet and it ran its pleasant fingers up my naked thigh and ribs.  
Casual, I chose.  
I yanked a black tank top from its hanger and pulled it over, pairing it with something called capris pants. They are like... long shorts. Cut off at the bottom, but comfy. I have not worn this pair since Shepard had Kasumi picked out my wardrobe, but the clothing industry began to boom right after the war. Once the asari and humans caught whiff of how quarians were able to take off their suits, they began pumping out new products that could fit the quarian physiology. Soon, the quarians would be taking over the industry once we set up factories, employ designers, and get workers into groove.  
Seventeen million of us can't go around naked.  
I thought the pants were cute, but were a little tight around the hips and buttocks.  
The pants were white with a pink flower stitched into the fabric right below my right pocket.  
Garrus would give me a tough time over this.  
I should not let him lay eyes on it, or I will have to break his arm at the elbow when and if he says something negative.  
Now, it was time to take care of what I was immaturely dreading. When something does not make sense, I try to work a way around it, but these horrible... _things _annoyed me with to no end. My eyes glowed molten with rage as I took slumberous, great strides toward the drawer designated for such evil articles of clothing. I fumed and gnawed my lower lip, wishing to draw blood, slather these things with it, and sacrifice them under a full moon in the mid of night while chanting nonsense.  
I yanked on the stainless steel drawer handle and there they were.  
_Dozens_ of them.  
Socks.  
I cringed and shivers hop scotched their way from the small of my back and gripped me with a chilled hug. I was tranquilized with hatred that rivaled what the Illusive Man got out of me, but plucked two from their flat wooden cave. These particular socks were designed to ergonomically fit my quarian foot. Two antennas protruded from the rectangular base-these two growths designed to dock my toes with a snug fit. I sighed, dropped my arms to my hips, closed my eyes, and tilted my head to the ceiling.  
This must be done.  
Hopping on one foot, I wrestled one on, then the other. Not satisfied with the result, I stormed out of the closet, crossed my arms, and fired off the best pouty in Shepard's direction.  
I hoped to see him slowly look over my top half and with his eyes, console my confidence, but his eyes shot to the two white oven mitts wrapped around my feet.  
"I like them," he said.  
"At least I can pull a hot baking sheet out of a five-hundred degree oven with my feet," I said, voice low and tremulous.  
"Socks are important. I wear them every day," reminded Shepard.  
"Remind me why, again?"  
"To keep my feet dry and smelling of daisies."  
"So if I don't keep them on, my feet will smell like something that _pushes _daisies?"  
"Exactly."  
I glared at my feet, then to my figure in the mirror. My hair was a puffy mess after pulling at it in frustration, a crooked frown elegantly embellished my face, and my cheeks had caught fire.  
Socks.  
My mortal enemy has been defeated, revealing yet more problems I had to conquer.  
Like standard quarian military protocol written around killing a geth Colossus, you take it down with "bug bites."  
"It's the little things," I said to Shepard.

**So, while writing my next big Mass Effect fanfiction, **_**The Aurora Prophecy**_**, a good friend of mine suggested I write more "fluff" to ease all of your pain and to dimple your cheeks with smiles. When I feel like it, I will be putting out these little short stories to keep all of my readers actively chanting my name and rooting me on whilst I continue to write my next story. Each "episode" will go into the mind of Tali'Zorah as she deals with ordinary life, of which is extraordinary to her as she journeys into the complications of being suitless on Rannoch.**


	2. It's Like an Unwieldy Mop

**It's Like an Unwieldy Mop**

Living outside of the suit is more _difficult_ and _tedious_ that I ever thought.

Or maybe I am just pouting too much.

Keelah, look at me now—I'm a mess. In the mirror stared back something that I'm still trying to get used to. A spill of black hair drenches the right side of my face as I am still trapped in our bathroom, taken hostage by the everyday tasks an unsuited person must conquer. Behind me is Shepard, a ripping grin slashed across his face and eyes wild with glistening mania. A glint of savage hunger flickers in both eyes and in his right fist is a tool as sharp as my trusty knife carried throughout my harrowing journeys.

My heart is at a full sprint, pounding and throbbing and jerking.

"_Slow down_," I whisper.

"What?"

I cannot take it.

Keelah, I cannot do it.

"Wait, stop," I shouted, turning in my chair, gripping Shepard's two wrists with a feverish intensity.

"Stop?"

"Yeah, stop. You heard me right. I don't think I can do this."

"Tali, it's just a hair cut," he said, the grin wiggling into a disappointed grimace.

"Why do I need it cut anyways?" I asked stupidly.

I already knew the answer to his reply before it snaked from between his tight lips.

"Well, just yesterday, you told me it was getting annoying. You hated it 'tickling your face'."

"I have spent twenty-five years of my life with the wonderful sensation of having nothing touch my face."

My eyebrows knitted together and I blinked furiously, crossed both arms, and reasserted myself in the chair situated before the mirror over our Jack and Jill sinks.

"So?" asked Shepard.

"_So_ what?"

"Are we going to do this?"

I was silent and chewed on my tongue.

"Eating your mouth is not an option, Tali."

"I'm thinking," I pouted.

"Out of all the decisions we have made, this is the one we get caught up on."

"Yup."

"You're acting like a child," smiled Shepard.

"No I'm not," I lied.

"Yes you are."

I breathed air from the corner of my mouth and shifted my head, analyzing my own hair. It had grown unwieldy over the past months and I found the way it clogged the shower drain to be repulsive and unsanitary. Poor Shepard had to deal with it as well.

Hair.

What a waste of time. For the first few days, I actually enjoyed mine—loved the way it looked, loved it even more when Shepard gently played with it.

"I miss my suit," I exclaimed. "It saved so much time. For instance, I could be doing something productive right now while it tended to my hair."

"Let me just snip it," ushered Shepard, brushing my shoulder. "I won't go crazy."

"No."

Shepard sighed and said, "I can always call Garrus over to do it."

"That's suicide," I said.

I slapped his hand on my shoulder.

Shepard was the harbinger of this approaching atrocity. If there were barbershops set up on Rannoch, I would have willingly gone to one, but with us rebuilding the planet, cosmetic shops catered to a quarian's appearances were on the lower half of the list. My suit was but a lament ghost hidden in the recesses of my closet—metaphorically concealed like my memories of The War. I was almost tempted to just put it back on, though I would miss the feel of wind and all of that other romantic stuff. This whole ordeal was turning our relationship turbulent. The time to act was now.

_Grow up, Tali._

I pointed at the closely trimmed stubble atop Shepard's head and said: "I like your hair cut."

"Mine?" he asked, stuffing a finger into his chest. I chuffed softly and kneeled on the chair and pawed the top of his head.

"Yeah, _you_. I think it's sexy."

"You want _my_ kind of haircut?"

"Sure. Jack looked kick ass with a buzz cut."

"She was completely bald back then."

I smirked and said, "You know what I mean."

"Well you _did_ say you hated the feeling of hair."

"It's too hard to take care of."

"And it's disgusting in the shower," he commented.

"Yeah, _eet ees_."

There was a moment of silence between us and I sensed an air of mastery in the room which wasn't coming from me. Behind that devious grin of Shepard's, his chest bulged and he grabbed me with one arm, becoming a ruthless autocrat. At that very moment, I knew I had made a mistake.

"I am going to cut your hair right now," he declared and grabbed his electric buzzer.

I won't lie, I was nervous. The hair I had now was nice to look at with all of those waves Kasumi went nuts over, but who am I kidding? I have never been a girl of appearances, but of functionality. It's not like I am going to be seeing anyone anytime soon since we are kind of held up in our house, still trying to calm our nerves from The War and waiting for society to rebuild.

"Keelah, it really has gotten long, hasn't it?" I asked him through the mirror as he put my hair into a ponytail. Remember, I have been wearing a suit basically my entire life. It took care of me—pampered me without my acknowledgement. I can remember retaking Rannoch with Shepard and the first damn I thing I did was take off my mask.

I softly laughed.

I was so anxious to get my suit off—so eagerly awaiting to act... well, _normal_. The suited life has been irrevocably etched into my memory and now it seemed to be haunting me. I thought the suit was a burden, a leaded necklace attached to my abilities that anchored me to the bottom of the fallacious galactic caste system.

"Do it," I spat.

This loathsome hair had to be abolished—the vibrating shears the spark of a revolution to come. I am the master of my new body and it was time I took the reins to steer my chariot the way I saw fit.

"Are you sure, Tali?" asked Shepard over the silky drone of the buzzer.

"Roger that. Lop it all off."

I watched with ominous intent as Shepard bit his lip and with a cautious haste, pushed the buzzer behind my skull. The toothed bit kissed the nape of my neck.

"_Eet_ _tickles_!" I squealed.

"Hold still, Tali!"

"I'm _tr-tr-tr-trying_!" My laugh was hellacious, tears rimming my eyelids. The metal teeth smoothly gnawed through my hair and I shut my eyes, horrified of the outcome.

What have I gotten myself into?

The buzzer's baritone voice sung to the depths of my head and tickled the inside of my ears as it brushed over the crest of my head and ended at my hairline, its pitch tapering to a high note.

My lids were sewn shut by eyelashes, voice mute with terror, and body petrified into a granite statue.

"I gave you an inverted Mohawk," said Shepard.

"I'm too scared to look."

"Don't, you look terrifying."

"Don't say that!"

Shepard laughed and continued to free me of the tangled mop atop my head. I took a peek, which was a mistake. Hair sat on my lap like thick black rats that scurried to the tiled floor around my feet when I wacked at the clumps. I stamped my feet and shut my eyes, screaming, "Get _eet_ over with! Get _eet_ over with!"

"I'm trying!"

"Go faster!"

The buzzer clicked off and I took solace in the new quiet.

"Oh man," punctuated Shepard. "Oh, you look _good_," he said, rubbing my shoulders.

"I can't look."

With both curious hands, I blindly groped my scalp and all I felt was a stretching field of silky prickles. I _had_ to observe what Shepard had done to me, to see what kind of haircut felt this good. Unlacing my eyelashes, I met my own bright eyes in the mirror, though they were dimmed with a dark patina of anguish. My heart threw itself against its ivory cage.

You think I didn't like it?

Wrong.

"Oh, it looks great!" I exclaimed, sitting from the chair and brushing the hair off my lap into vast dark piles at my feet. "I can feel the air on my scalp. That's a new sensation!"

"Just make sure you don't overdo it on the shampoo and conditioner," said Shepard, sheathing the buzzer. "Or you'll drown in suds."

"Keelah, I need to jump in the shower."

"Yeah, unless you want to track hair over the house."

"I'd rather not do that."

"Then you'd have to vacuum."

"I have better things to do than vacuum," I quipped.

I ripped off my pants, shirt, and stared at the stupid socks that mummified my feet.

"I'll leave you to it," said Shepard, laughing to himself and closing the bathroom door.

This is life for me now. It's the little things, all of these trivial tasks I have to deal with that are beginning to get on my nerves. I'm used to blowing Collectors, geth, and Reapers in half with my shotgun, not dealing with taking showers and getting my hair cut like, dare I say, a _civilized_ person. Don't get me wrong, I am loving this new life, but after spending years fighting to keep alive, it's hard to jump right back into what normal people consider every day.

Regardless, my new hair cut feels great.

I twisted the knob on the shower and sighed. At least warm water feels good and my time in the shower has been cut by about thirty minutes.

My frown lifted to a smile and I breathed a laugh.

Accept it, Tali.

Life is good.

**I hope you all enjoyed that as much as I enjoyed writing it! A shout out to VandalX187 for looking the chapter over for me. You're the man, Bill.**

** Now, I have just finished writing my next story, **_**The Aurora Prophecy**_**, and I would love for all of you to give it a try once I begin releasing chapters. As of right now, it is in the editing process, and guess what? There will be art work with every chapter done by the **_**brilliant**_** modsoft. Seriously, I am very proud of what the team I am working with has done in making this something big and very special. It's been about nine months working on it so far and I am ecstatic to share it with you all once I feel it is as close to perfection as I can possibly get it. Now, I am posting the link in my profile to where the art will be shown below (it is in the BSN, coupled with **_**Deception**_**'s homepage) and all you have to do is scroll down a bit to see a teaser of the art and the story's synopsis. It will be here, on as well. Anyways, to see the upcoming art, subscribe to the link posted in my profile, hold on tight, and wait for an update! I'd love a comment-an opinion on what you think so far, and yes, it is centered on a quarian.  
**

** Or you can favorite me on here!**

** Okay, that's it with the advertising. I swear.  
**

** As always, I love you all. This three year journey has been a wild one.**

**Very best,**

**FsDxRAGE**


	3. It's Called Cheating

**It's Called Cheating**

Night had fallen hard and fast, so had my visibility. Inside of our house was dark—corners even darker. My eyes could not penetrate the sable shadows nor catch the ferocious glint of my adversary's eyes. In the grip of my slick fist, I clasped onto my firearm. My heart throbbed, breaths were wild, and adrenaline slowly breaching its dam in trickles. I knew I was being watched.

But where from?

Where was he?

Where was Shepard?

I pressed my back against the white kitchen cabinets where I had taken cover, near the sink which overlooks the dining room.

Keelah, I keep on forgetting how big our house is.

_Tali, keep your thoughts on track! You can get shot!_

"Right," I said, acknowledging myself.

I reasserted my grip on the pistol and through squinting eyes, I could see my reflection on the microwave's polished door. My heart took sumptuous strides towards a full out sprint, cartoonishly spinning from zero to light-speed in an instant. It's not that I was tranquilized with mute terror by my dim reflection, rather I saw yet another tactical disadvantage I had without my environment suit.

I was fighting Shepard in a blanket of darkness with eyes of glowing coal.

That's like... having a _shoot me_ sticker on my back!

I panicked.

I saw my chest heaving in that wavy, distorted reflection. Cytoplasmic whispers passed through me—guiding my hand to reach over the counter and grab a deterrent for my handicap. I stared at my firearm to double check my ammunition count.

Four rubber and foam darts left. I lost three in an earlier exchange of fire near the French doors bordering the threshold to the library. If I run out of ammo, I can scramble to the glass doors and recycle the used ammunition. I know my three bullets are still sucking onto the glass. I can rescue those if need be.

Shepard.

Must.

Not.

Win.

With a Herculean breath, I inhaled much needed oxygen and bravery, forging an alloy of unbreakable determination and will that _will_ take down my worthy adversary.

I knew he was watching my position from the darkness, but those whispers I heard earlier, those were vague memories pulsating in the back of my mind telling me that sunglasses are on the breakfast counter bordering the sink I'm hiding behind.

All I need to do is expose myself for a split second to grab them. Only then will I be as invisible as Shepard.

I licked my thumb and wet the from tip of my weapon's iron-sights and reared out of cover.

A shot whistled by my right ear.

He missed.

I returned fire in the general direction, trying to suppress him. My orange dart squeaked off the kitchen table and I heard him roll out of the way.

"I know where you are!" I screamed, blindly groping for my sunglasses and yanking on the slide of my plastic, yellow handgun, chambering another round.

He had almost got me.

I had almost got him.

_ Good._

Three shots left—I had to make them count.

Again, I found myself on my ass, trembling with jovial nerves and staring at my wicked reflection in the polished face of the microwave. Without my suit, life is more trivial and difficult, especially made apparent when in the middle of a firefight with my human lover.

Who in the hell would have thought this would happen in my lifetime?

_Tali, you're wondering again! Snap out of it—sack his ass with a bullet._

"Okay," I said to myself, swallowing hard. He must have fallen back to a better, more fortified position. If I knew him as well as I think I do, he is be behind the couch. He has three different sectors of fire from there, coupled with an exit path if things get too hot.

Which they will.

"_I'll make sure of it_," I hissed with a sinister smile.

I brushed a black wing of hair out of my face. Oh yeah, I forgot to mention my hair grows really fast, according to Shepard, at least. Who knows it that's true or not? Do we even have records of how fast quarian hair grows?

Whatever.

I kept it shorter ever since my latest haircut debacle—longer in the front and shorter in the back. I hate the feeling of it on my neck, but love it when Shepard plays with it.

_ Tali, you're doing it again! He's your adversary! _

"Right," I whispered and checked my right flank.

All clear.

I nodded and saluted my reflection, satisfied with my big, dark sunglasses. He won't see me coming now. I plucked at the spaghetti strap on my black tank top—sliding it up off my arm and onto my shoulder and kicked off my sandals. My next maneuver would depend on my vitality and reflexes, and I don't need pesky flip-flops getting in the way of my offensive on Shepard's position. My pajama pants were loose and easy to run in.

I think I had him.

Crawling on all fours, I pushed a pot out of the pantry to make noise on my right flank—to distract and disorient my foe.

An omelet pan flew off the shelf and clattered to the slate tile floor of the kitchen. In the still black, the crescendo of noise was thunderous, as loud as Reaper horns.

That's when I decided to make my move. I immediately moved opposite of the noise and rounded the left side of the breakfast bar, training the shinning tip of my sight on the back of the red sofa I hoped Shepard was prowling behind. If everything went as planned, I should be able to shoot him in the back.

I was wrong, however.

Just my luck, right?

Like a groundhog, he popped out of cover and fired a shot—his beady, glistening eyes sparking in the dark. I could see a sloppy, toothy white grin through the dark and took aim at his _shtupid _face.

I watched my orange dart arc towards his mouth but with insectile reflexes, he dodge my bullet and fired at me again.

"Keelah!"

I rolled and felt his dart bounce off my ankle—a graze that did not count.

One shot left.

Recovering from my most definitely embarrassingly desperate roll, I stood and held an isosceles shooting stance, pushing my pistol towards Shepard's last known position and fired, but felt something cold and wet sucker to my sternum—center of mass hit.

I had failed.

Or had I?

I watched my dart slingshot towards Shepard's face and _spwock _onto his forehead. He reeled away from me and fell to the ground like a heavy, wet board.

"You got me!" I screamed, tearing his dart off my skin with a wet _pop _and loaded it into my pistol's breach, prepared to fire another shot into the back of his head if need be.

"You shot me in the face! What in the hell are you upset about?" asked Shepard, face buried into the rug, arms limp at his side.

Juvenilely, I strutted towards him with a big_ L_ made of two fingers plastered on my forehead and taunted, "You weren't supposed to shoot me," I spat and shot him again.

"Ow! What was that for?"

"Double tap."

I stood over his supine carcass. He glared at his pistol like it had malfunctioned in the heat of battle.

"Anyways, you weren't supposed to kill me. I'm Commander Shepard."

"Your point?"

"That _is_ the point."

"Well, I'm Tali'Zorah vas Rannoch vas Normandy. I _theenk_. We still haven't figured that out yet."

With a fist, Shepard yanked the dart off his forehead and the one embedded in his neck.

"It looks like you have a ketchup stain on your forehead," I pointed out, laughing.

"It hurt when you shot me. Did you modify your gun?"

I rolled my eyes towards the ceiling and clapped my hands, activating a few ambient lights, and said, "_Maybe_."

"You cheated!"

"I did not! I... improvised."

"That sounds a lot like cheating. What'd you do to it?"

"Nothing," I moaned.

"_Tali_."

"I put a longer piston in so the air tank is able to suck in more air, rising the PSI so I'm able to get higher FPS. _Eets_ a good design."

"That's cheating."

"Well..." I started, rising both fists angrily. "You..." I jabbed my finger into his chest as he stood. "You could see where I was the whole time with my glowing eyes and said nothing!"

"I like your glowing eyes. I didn't want you to feel self-conscious about them if I told you to cover 'em up."

"That's still cheating."

"Right, I'm sorry."

"No you aren't."

"I know," he smiled.

** I completely wrote this on a whim when I felt that **_**I need to write **_**knot in my chest and had to untie it. I hope you all enjoyed it. Again, I feel the need to promote my new story I have been working on for over a year now that should be released sometime soon called **_**The Aurora Prophecy**_**. I have a link under my profile to the homepage on my BSN blog where you can read the synopsis and see a teaser of artwork that will go along with each chapter, **_**Reckoning**_** style. Thanks!**

**-RAGE**


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